


Witness Testimony

by thePurrfessor



Category: Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Character Interpretation, Dark Comedy, Graphic Depictions of Jar Jar Binks, Military Science Fiction, Multi, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:34:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24516229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thePurrfessor/pseuds/thePurrfessor
Summary: A rather Strange Jedi knight finds herself immersed in the craft of battle, in the face of the Separatist War. Flanked by a small cadre of misfits and misanthropes, she attempts to navigate the murky waters of the waning days of the Galactic Republic.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	1. Brief: 0-0

**Author's Note:**

> A revisiting of the events of the Clone Wars, into the end of the Galactic Republic and the birth of the Empire. A mix of Legends and Disney Canon, from the perspective of a largely original cast. Events will largely play out as they do in official content. That is, with one notable exception.

The year is 22 BBY. The galaxy is divided. The Galactic Republic's mismanagement of its outer rim territories have led to many questioning its rule over the region. Whispers of secession bubble under the surface of benign civil unrest.

A disastrous diplomatic mission to the outer galactic rim planet of Geonossis ignited centuries of tension; turning the Separatist movement into a full blown Separatist Crisis. Innumerable industrial corporations voice their support, providing for the newly assembled Confederacy of Independant Systems the largest droid army ever seen in galactic history.

In response, the Galactic Senate voted to name Senator Sheev Palpatine its Supreme Chancellor, granting him sole executive powers in order to guide the Republic through this troubling period. As his first move as Chancellor, Palpatine officially formed the Grand Army of the Republic, with an endless tide of Clones as its backbone and body. A secluded order of monks known as the Jedi would serve as this army's generals. With the great metaphysical powers gifted to them by the Force, they were uniquely suited to guide the Republic through this Clone War.

One such Jedi, a stranger amongst her kin, would prove to be more suited to this duty than most.


	2. Circumstantial: 1-1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Stranger amongst the Jedi order does her due dilligence.

"So, what brings you down to the archives? Brushing up on your studies, young Knight? It's not like Master Windu to assign homework, and especially not for /former/ padawans of his."

"Have we any volumes on military strategy, Loremaster?"

The wizened archivist gave her would be pupil a soft, knowing sort of smile. "Please," she starts, "Jocasta is fine, no need to be so formal." With a grace uncommon for a woman of her advanced age, she turns on her heel; gesturing with her hand for the inquisitive knight to follow. 

"I take it you've an interest in the subject because of the..." she hesitates, searching for a loaded enough term, "/delicate/, situation we find ourselves in these trying times?"

Behind her mask, the knight scowls. She can still see it. A hail of blaster fire ripping through rust orange dust clouds. Jedi and clone alike falling like raindrops, watering the parched earth with their bodily fluids. The stench of sun baked blood mingling with oil and belching engines. Screaming. Taking cover behind piles of bodies, as parade formations break under a hail of artillery.

"You..." breaking from her grim reverie, the Knight half whispers, "You could say that, yes."

Jocasta Nu leads the Knight through the winding corridors of shelves and bookcases of the archives, thinking aloud as she walks. "Now, we've little in the way of 'modern' military doctrine, haven't had the use for it since the Ruusan Reformation. Most of our writings on strategem date back to the New Sith Wars, and even those were never formalized into some sort of battle manual; lightsaber form study aside." Her tone shifts to that of a lecturing teacher, chiding her class of younglings. "I do hope you are studying this purely out of academic interest, I'd hate to hear of a promising young Jedi leaving the order to become a fleet admiral." Wrinkled features twist into a sneer, adding, "The Count is enough of a stain on our reputation."

The knight falters, holding her hands up in mock surrender. She stammers, "I, I've no intentions of forsaking the order, Loremaster Jocasta! My loyalties are to the Republic, and to our people. I simply..." She trails off, arms dropping to her sides. Hanging her head, she continues. "I simply wish to rectify the errors I saw at Geonosis. Too many good people died that day, because we thought the enemy to be beneath planning for."

"Tch, the clones? It's a shame they were wasted, but that is what they were made for."

The knight's fists clench, her head shooting up to meet the archivist's disapproving gaze. "They are people," she spits, "As connected to the Force as you or I. I refuse to sit idly by while living beings are snuffed out due to our own arrogance."

Jocasta gives the knight an approving nod, thinking to herself, "Oh Master Windu, you never did break this one of her passion, did you..." Reaching out with the Force, she takes one, two, four holo-texts, millenia old, and holds them out for the knight. "Take these," she says. "Let them guide your hands, and the Force, your heart."

The knight accepts the books, bowing deeply. "I thank you for the trust you've put in me, with luck, men's lives will be spared because of this."

Chuckling more to herself than anyone else, Jocasta chastises, "There is no luck, only the Force."

"Yes Loremaster, sorry Loremaster." The knight winces, reminded of her frequent reprimands during her tutelage as a youngling. Many an hour was spent in "reflective meditation," largely owed to her penchant for mischief and general impatience.

Jocasta places a gentle hand on the Knight's helmet, urging her to stand up. "Again with the formality, you're not a Padawan anymore, you don't need to act like you're with the Council around me." 

The knight rises, standing almost a full head above the aging librarian; Jocasta's hand shifting to her pupil's shoulder in turn. 

"My how you've grown," says Master Nu. "I remember when you were first brought to the order, some, 20, 30 years ago, practically born on our doorstep! How time passes... I hear you've taken a new name for yourself since then? Not unheard of, but, it /is/ a bit rare for a Jedi to not use their Order or parent given one. What was it again?"

Word travels fast around the Order, the knight marvels. She'd only made the decision a handful of days ago. The name Jael Dume felt worlds away by now, another casualty of that force forsaken rock.

"Stranger," she replies. "I'd prefer it you think of me as Stranger."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like Jocasta Nu. I wish she was my grandma


	3. Circumstantial: 1-2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A recollection of previous events

"What'cha got there?"

The clone eyed his soon to be commanding officer with mild apprehension. This Jedi, Knight Jael Dume, was to lead his unit, and he'd hate to make a bad impression before their LA-AT even landed. He opted to give the diplomatic non-answer. Raising the helmet in his hands; he replied, "It's just my helmet, General."

Shaking her head no, the Jedi reiterated, "Nono, what's in /there/? You were fiddling with something on the inside of your helmet. Does it fit alright?" As if to punctuate the question, she makes a point of gesturing around her head, making the vague shape of a sphere enveloping it.

CT-109 sucks a breath of air through his teeth, knowing he won't be able to get anything past this Jedi. Fearing punishment for divergence, he half explains, "I was, calibrating my radio receivers, Ma'am." 

The trooper to his right lightly elbows him in the ribs, grinning like a child about to tattle on a schoolmate to his teacher. "He was probably trying to get his comm lines to play music again, the Kaminoans never let him do it during Basic! Thought he might get away with it now that they aren't here I bet."

"Is that so?"

CT-109 stammers, "I-I can expla-"

Cutting him off, Knight Dume simply asks, "What kind of music do you like? Did they play much, on Kamino?"

Breathing a sigh of relief, 109 answers, "Nnnot exactly, some of the ARC troopers were given tapes by the trainers, and shared the recordings with us. If uh, if you want, I can set my helmet to broadcast. You could listen with me, just have to tune in."

The Jedi dons her helmet, placing a hand on the radio receiver controls on the side. "I'm interested," she starts, "what's your frequency? Should probably have that anyway, so we can keep in touch when we land."

"458 over 23 Ma'am, it's the whole unit's."

Sure enough, when the Jedi turns her comm ratio to CT-109's, a heavy bassline and shrieking kloohorn came blasting out the speakers. Yelping in surprise, she practically slaps her helmet's volume knob.

CT-109 winces, asking, "Not a fan of jatz?"

Waving off his worries, Knight Dume hastily replies, "nono, I, jatz is fine, just caught me off guard with how /loud/ it was."

With the confidence of a man who has probably said this dozens of times before, the trooper puffs up his chest and proclaims, "The Twisted Rancor Trio deserve your undivided attention, ma'am; a dish best served loud and proud."

The Jedi laughs, leaning back against the gunship's wall. "I take it you're a fan then?"

CT-109 looks off to the side, demurely replying, "Eheh, is it that obvious ma'am?"

"Just a little, yeah," she says. "So. Got a name fanboy?"

Frowning just a hair, the trooper answers, "No ma'am, just a number. CT 109, ma'am."

The Jedi furrows her brow. "Hm. That won't do," she remarks. Turning her communication to broadcast, she adds, "Troopers, can I get a sound off?"

"CT 101 Ma'am."

"CT 091, Jedi Dume."

"CT 808, loud and clear!"

"CT 413, at your command."

"CT 777, ready and accounted for."

Finally, the trooper who so readily squealed on 109 pipes up. "CT 320, General.

Humming to herself for a moment as she thinks, the Jedi considers nicknames. Pointing at 101 and proceding in order, she declares, "From now on, 101, you're Schoolyard. 91 is Niner, 808 is Heartbreak, 413 is Smith, 777 will be Jackpot, and 109, you're Tunes."

The clone troopers murmur with mild amusement and pride at their new nom de plumes. CT 320 raises his hand, requesting, "What about me, general?"

Grinning behind her mask, the Jedi points a finger gun at the trooper in question, stating, "You? You, are Tattletale."

Tunes snickers, elbowing Tattletale back. "Just like on Kamino, huh?"

Before the newly christened and freshly ribbed trooper could retort, the gunship's warning lights start flashing red. The intercom crackles to life as the pilot announces, "Attention troopers. We are about to reach the drop off, and we're coming in hot; prepare for a rocky landing."

As if waiting for some cue to make their entrance, the roar of hailfire missiles just barely missing their mark shakes the fuselage. The cohort of soldiers grip the ship's handholds, stumbling as they try to maintain their footing through the pilot's sudden evasive maneuvers.

Heartbreak shouts over the comm-line, "Frackin' warn a guy earlier next time! We were in the middle of some team bonding!"

"I didn't want to ruin the moment!"

Schoolyard barks "Argue about it when we get back, focus on getting us to ground right now!"

"Roger roger, on it!"

The thunder of anti air rounds bursting around the ship nearly drowned out the wailing jatz, forcing Tunes to amp the volume to near deafening levels. So loud, he almost missed the final call from the intercom.

"Attention lady and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking, we are making our final descent to Geonosis! Please put your tray tables up, and your seats back in the full upright position, we hope you enjoyed your flight with the Grand Army of the Republic!"

And with that, the blast doors flew open, pressurized cabin hissing as the wind kicks rust orange sand into the air. The clones file out with machine precision, their Jedi General right behind. Before them lies a near endless expanse of desert, a wall of blaster fire, and an ocean of battledroids deeper than this sun parched world has ever seen.

The Jedi inhales. "Time to go play hero."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up with clone number-names is fun. You should try it some time. Can you spot all the terrible jokes I hid in them?
> 
> Also, did you know that there is no official recordings of Jatz? I looked, for a long time. There's only a couple of details even written about what it might sound like. I'm working on composing some hypothetical Jatz songs based on how I'm pretty certain it would be. I'll post some eventually.


	4. Circumstantial: 1-3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An after action report, with the context of post battle research.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry in advance about the sheer volume of lightsaber form discussion.

Looking back, it all seems so obvious. A hundred little mistakes, a thousand oversights, a million half measures, all culminating in one collossal phyrric victory.

The results were clear. 179 dead Jedi. Untold thousands of clones died, including nearly five thousand clone commandos. Another twelve thousand seriously injured. Untallied lost vehicles. And one galaxy aflame. All for, what, a single Jedi Knight, his Padawan, and a senator?

It hardly added up. The Padawan was supposed to be the Chosen One, a child who would somehow bring balance to the Force. Yet, the Force seemed fairly in balance to Stranger, there hadn't been a Sith Lord active in millenia. One dark side assassin does not a Sith's revenge make.

The battle plan, or lack thereof, didn't make sense either. First was the arena incident. Strategic infiltration, followed by rapid extraction via LA-AT gunship once the 'assets' are secured. Sensible on paper. What wasn't, was sending in dozens of inexperienced, uncoordinated, diplomacy minded Jedi Consulars to do the job. The order is in no short supply of martially focused Jedi Guardians, why could they not be tapped for this mission?

And then there was the "Battle" proper. Barely organized walls of troops being deployed in the middle of an open field, ordered to assault a fortified, dug in position, and forced to march in parade formation across miles of flat sand. The lack of cover could've been mitigated with vehicle delivered infantry, like AT-RT scout walkers, or speederbikes. It also could be dealt with by at least obscuring enemy sight lines with smoke or chaffe. They even could've taken a page out of that Gungan general's playbook and installed some form of theater shield generator atop their AT-TEs, and created walking, all encompassing cover to protect the advance. Instead, they died in droves, desperately clawing inch after inch progress with each collumn of clones cut down.

LA-ATs expected to insert badly needed reinforcements into the battle were flying without fighter escort in insect like swarms, and appropriately, dropped like flies. Geonosian Nantex-class starfighters were allowed to play havoc with valuable troop transports, with the sole opposition they faced being slow aiming artillery batteries meant for harrying capitol ships.

Said reinforcements were grievously misused. A sum total of half of all Clone Commandos perished in that ill fated assault. They were tossed onto that same open battlefield as rank and file infantry, the elite of elite forced to crash against the rocks like so many waves in an ocean of blood. An unacceptable waste. Any life snuffed out early was a waste in Stranger's eyes, but that, bothered her more than she expected. She chalked it up to the inexperience of the Jedi "generals," something she was admittedly guilty of herself.

The Jedi. Arrogance, was what Stranger thought they were guilty of. The Jedi /could/ survive that sort of foolish frontal assault, throwing caution to the wind and letting the Force guide their blades. The men they were meant to lead, could not. And yet, the Jedi did not think to adjust their usual tactics to match their subordinates' skills, instead expecting them to follow them headlong into oblivion. In a cruel twist of irony or cosmic justice, nearly 90 percent of the Jedi deployed died with the men they thought themselves above learning to lead.

Many of them lacked the practice and expertise to survive open pitched combat. The rest, regrettably studied Lightsaber forms incompatible with it. Form 2 was nearly indomitable in duels with other lightsaber users, but its emphasis on precise, elegant bladework rendered it weak to the hail of blasterfire employed by the Separatist droid army. Form 4's dynamic acrobatics are a sight to behold, but do little for a warrior caught in the open without anything to vault off of and over. Form 6, lauded for its ease of learning, strong fundamentals, and openness for individual expression, faired even worse. The Form's lack of dedicated strengths and lax training requirements, meant to leave the style room for the practitioner to improvise and employ the Force, resulted instead in complacency. And it was considered the electrum standard for lightsaber training! Not a single Form 6 focused Jedi, save for Stranger herself, made it home; and she only lived by sheer luck.

By contrast, the conservative, defensive bladework of Forms 1 and 3, the emphasis on blaster counters of 5, and the raw power of Master Windu's 7, served their wielders well. Knight Kenobi, Masters Plo Koon and Kit Fisto, and Padawan Anakin all proved that bringing a sword to a blaster fight could be done with success, but it was clear that some Forms were simply inadequate for the sorts of engagement war entailed. The Jedi were meant to be diplomats and peacekeepers, every Consular worth their robes would spend the majority of their time honing their oratory and conversational skills. Shirking their combat training. Yet, a great many of them still volunteered for this mission, without a second thought to whether or not they'd be of any help. Why?

They wanted to play at being heroes. Bile rose in Stranger's throat, remembering she thought the same thing when she landed on that blasted rock. That's what Jedi were supposed to be, wasn't it? Heroes. Defenders of the Galaxy. The living embodiment of truth, justice, and the Republic's way of life. Some heroes they were, drowned under a tide of metal, and buried in their hubris.

It almost seemed like it was all on purpose. Stranger doubted it, that such negligence, such pointless loss of life could have been intentional. And yet, it made some sick sort of sense. If the Sith truly were returning, what better way to devastate Jedi morale than by having them be slaughtered like animals; made to believe it was their own fault. And, how better to weaken the Republic, than by allowing it to be divided so thoroughly? But, if that were true, then, their ranks must be compromised on some level. There was a traitor in their midst. 

The battleplans were drawn by the highest levels of authority, but that doesn't overrule the possibility of some advisor to the Council being corrupted either. Or perhaps a powerful dark side user, hidden amongst the rest of the temple, dominated the will of one of the Council members. It could be anyone from the lowly Padawan, all the way up to Grand Master Yoda. It could even be a group, a shadow cabal looking to destroy the Order from the inside out; poised to strike when the Jedi are at their weakest. However many, and whomever it is, one thing was certain. Stranger could not tell the Order, lest she raise the alarm and set the traitor's plan into motion early.

She resolved three courses of action. The first, was to give the Council her findings, in the hopes something could be learned from that horrible day. The second, was to formally request a small unit of Clones, for her to work with to test the strategems she was beginning to develop. The third, and most crucial of all, was to deal with the possible traitor. If this nightmare went all the way up to the Council, then their reach might extend past the Order's walls. The Senate could be in danger, potentially the Republic itself! 

She needed to warn the Chancellor. She needed to speak to Palpatine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, thank you Generation Tech. Also also I hope you don't mind gungans, they're going to be here eventually. Also also also we'll be going back to Geonosis soon enough, I promise


End file.
